Separate and Superior
by Tirya King
Summary: Each member of the Order has their own task before it can reform after the TriWizard Tournament. This is Remus’ task. Set between the 4th and 5th books.
1. Part 1

Title: Separate and Superior

By: Tirya King

Email: General/Drama

Feedback: Of course!

Rating: PG

Summary: Each member of the Order has their own task before it can re-form. This is Remus' task. Set between the 4th and 5th books.

Disclaimer: I do not own Remus or the HP world. I do own the other werewolves mentioned as well as the society presented.

A/N: This is more of an analytical look at a werewolf than anything as well as a look at a side of Remus I feel we don't see enough. The side of him that is a wolf and proud of it. I tried to keep it as non-dry as possible, but still keep it within the school report format that it is meant to be in.

Dedicated to my good friend Nuwie without whom this would never get off the ground and with whom I have spent countless hours ranting about everything and nothing!

Separate and Superior

To Whom It May Concern:

I write to you, Ministers of the Assembly of the Minister of Magic, concerning recent events that have taken place last spring. As you are well aware of, Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was my employer during the time I spent teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. As I trust his judgment implicitly, I am disturbed by the implications the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament brings to the surface.

I come to you to ask for something that many of my kind have been asking for years. Freedom. As you may be well aware, I was bitten by a werewolf at a young age, and since then, I have been unable to enjoy the freedoms so enjoyed by the human race.

I do not ask this for my sake, or the sake of my kind, but for your own. With the Dark forces rising, it is very likely that werewolves may be offered the freedoms you have so denied by the Dark Lord and his minions. As for myself, I am solely dedicated to the cause of the Ministry, but there will be others who are not so loyal. To make an enemy of the wolves would be to create a deadly one indeed.

I do not expect this simple plea to sway you toward making new amendments to the laws governing half-human magical creatures. Therefore, I have enclosed an analytical report relating to the werewolf may help you better understand us. I believe there has never before been a report on a werewolf done by a werewolf, so I hope you find it useful. It covers the time between when I was bitten to the time I wrote it which was during my 7th Year attending Hogwarts. Thank you for your consideration and time.

Canus Superior by: Remus John Lupin

There are moments where I can almost believe I am human. When it's as though I never ran out to play that one night so long ago. When it's like I didn't wake up 3 days later in St. Mungo's. The first thing they told me was that once I recovered, I could go on to live a normal life. Don't worry, little one, you're not alone.

It's a lie. It all is. I'm not human. I don't have a normal life. But I'm not alone. Not anymore.

By the age of 40, 65 of werewolves who were bitten as children would be dead. 70 of those commit suicide, ashamed and horrified at what they are. 25 are murdered, lynched, and tortured. No one ever sees the last 5 again. I knew from a very young age, too young for most, that I would probably fit in there somewhere. Even now, long after I have come to terms with what I am, I still hold fears that I will not live long enough to see a cure. There are days where I couldn't care less.

Few know of my true nature. Even less understand it. At times, I don't truly understand it. My disease, my condition, my affliction if you will, is so much a part of me now. If a cure were ever to be found, would I even have the courage to take it? I hate it, I hate it so very much, yet without it, I would be a lost little boy once more. I don't know if I could stand being human again.

I am a wolf now. I accept that. I am more wolf than human now. And every day, every hour, my humanity slips that much more.

Stepping out of that hospital for the first time since the attack, I began to get an idea of what I had gotten myself into. A representative from the Ministry Department of Half Human Magical Creatures came to visit the second day I was awake. He came with a collar.

Registration wasn't so bad. They took blood samples, hair samples, fingerprints, anything that could ever be used to identify me. They had me relive my night, struggle to identify the wolf that bit me. I was seven at the time.

The men were nice to me. They said my collar was something I should only wear during the time when I was sick. They had me try it on. That was one of the most painful moments of my life.

No one had told me that there was silver in the collar. They didn't tell me how on the front, they would attach a tag with my name, a license number, and blood type. I looked in the mirror to see what it was about me that made my mum cry so hard. I was too young to see anything in the mirror except a pale, bandaged boy with a collar on. The pain in the collar had been reduced to a mad fiery itch that left my neck raw.

A second 'collar' was given to me. A chain with dog tags on it that identified me. This set of identification I was to wear all the time. There is less silver in it. Enough to leave a constant reminder that you were anything but normal. But not enough to inhibit you in any way.

We left the hospital with an address with instructions to owl that address at the first opportunity. Some sort of 'support group' my father told me. Where others who were sick like I was came together a few times a year for a week each where we didn't have to be alone with our affliction. I grew to hate that too.

The majority of people that came to this gathering once a year were under the age of 20. Parents took them here so that we might form friendships with others like us. Make us feel less alone in the world. I had never felt so alone in my life as when I was with them. Wolves have a very tight social order and their human-like counterparts are no exception. Every one of us, from the newest pup to the oldest wolf has a place in society. Forcing us all together for one week is asking for trouble. A pack should never be so large.

When I was first introduced into the 'support group', known as 'Wolf's Haven', I was still unsure about my new identity. I did not understand what was expected of me when I arrived. I soon learned through trial and error about the sub-culture of wolves. Every movement, every turn of a phrase meant something whether the wolf was aware of it or not. Instinct ran deep in our veins and you could find yourself attacking a playmate and never consciously knowing why.

When I first arrived, I was immediately placed into the social totem pole. I was shy and I did not want any trouble with the others. That was a mistake. The other pups my age saw this as weakness and cast me as an Omega wolf. They wouldn't go near me, they wouldn't play with me. I ate alone.

One of the Beta females of the pack, a French woman around the age of my mum took pity on me. She found out that it was my first visit to the 'support group' and that I had never even been under a full moon yet. She watched over me and wouldn't let the other pups harass me. Her name was Marie Laspron from a small village called LaCharite and as far as anyone was concerned, she was my pack mother.

My first full moon occurred during my time there, as was the purpose of the whole get-together. The grounds upon which this group lay, was surrounded by underground silver wire strong enough to deter the most enraged wolf. Therefore, we were not forced to hide ourselves in cages or underground lairs during this time. The pack was allowed to roam free.

Anyone can tell you that becoming a wolf during the full moon is painful. The difference between a human's body and a wolf's is too much to not make a painful transition. But only a werewolf can truly tell you of its true nature. You become itchy as fur bursts from your body. Your senses heighten to a level where you want to pass out from the overload of new information. Your bones shift, crack, bend in strange new ways that they were never meant to. Your skin stretches to accommodate the new changes, feeling like it might tear at any moment. I wanted to die, die right there in Marie's arms during the single minute it took to complete the process. But I did not and I ran with the pack that night, wishing for meat and blood from any human that might cross my path. None came.

What people often fail to realize is that when a human becomes a werewolf, it is not just an occurrence that happens once a month. Everything about me changed, my hair grew a bit thicker. My ears pointed at the tips. My teeth developed larger-than-average canines. My body a little leaner with less fat and more muscle. These changes could be hidden easily. The physical changes to my human body were a mere trifle. It was the unseen that set me apart so much. It was the unseen that truly made me a wolf.

As my senses developed gradually over the months since my attack, I became more prone to fainting spells. Most would think it was my illness that made me so weak when there was nothing weak about it. My parents were beside themselves over worry. But how could a little boy-pup explain to his human parents that every whisper was as effective as a scream? A cloudy sky nearly searing my poor small eyes. Food was nauseating in its intense tastes. And the smells… God, that was one of the hardest to get used to. I no longer needed anything but my nose to identify the people I met. Every piece of clothing, every movement of the breeze, everything I came in contact with had its own, overpowering stench. And there was nothing more disgusting to me than the scent of filth.

Born from my new senses came the little quirks I am known for now. I am a neat freak to my friends, taking no less than 2 baths per day and demanding utter cleanliness from them. I can't even count how many times I've been called neurotic. How can one describe how the scent and feel of grime digging into every pore, every seam of my body, makes me want to scrub and scrub until my flesh becomes raw? I speak quietly hoping others show the same courtesy. I hide my eyes behind sunglasses as often as possible. Yet, with all the harm these senses can do if I allow them to overpower me, without them, I would feel naked and helpless. I would not trade them for anything. Not even a cure.

As knowledge of my curse became wider known, I lost any friends I had made when I was human. It seemed my family and I were always on the move. Every year or so, when my secret could not longer be hidden from my neighbors, we would be driven out. I've fled from a burning building more than once before entering school.

The few friends I did have were mostly Muggles, who could not begin to dream what they were playing with. Small things set them off too. I learned early not to look people in the eyes very often. They had something unnatural in them that had a habit of unnerving people. Yet, to those who I would not make eye contact with, I was considered a shady, untrustworthy boy. For what honest boy needs to hide his eyes?

Even when I had friends, and could keep them, there was so much that I was still not allowed to do like a normal boy. I could not share drinks or ice cream cones with my playmates, for my saliva is as dangerous in my human form as in my wolf form. Any cuts I obtained climbing trees could not be laughed at or ignored. My day of fun ended right there and I had to rush home immediately to get cleaned up and bandaged. I may heal faster than a human, but one drop of my blood in the system of another was too big a risk to take. My 'Muggle identity' has me listed as an AIDS patient so that if I ever need medical attention, my caretakers would be safe. I wonder how many other 'Muggles' who claim to have a blood condition are actually hiding a more sinister infliction.

I was 9 when thoughts of my education began to hit my parents hard. My father was pureblood and my mother a mix. Therefore, they had always assumed that I would be attending Hogwarts when I turned 11. But the laws clearly stated that a half-breed could not learn magic. The Ministry felt we were dangerous, possible traitors. I laugh to hear their arguments, for they have so many. The magical world fears me and what I am capable of. They are afraid that if I learn magic then I might turn on them with it. Perhaps if I were not so mistreated by them, I would not feel the occasional urge to prove them right. I am an animal and at times I want to show them so much just how vicious a wolf can be.

Nevertheless, my parents felt that if they appealed to Headmaster Dippet he could find some way to let me in. We did not have high hopes. His niece, a young witch by the name of Dolores Umbridge, had just graduated school and was a rising official in the Department of Half-Human Magical Creatures. She helped enforce the laws that caused this problem in the first place.

I was refused admittance into the school.

I was 10 when Headmaster Dippet died. His successor was a man known by many as a maverick of a wizard. Professor Dumbledore was adored by my parents who had been taught by him. They told me that he even fought for the rights of my kind and other half-humans. They sent another appeal to the school, begging him to teach me magic. They assumed he would send me a private tutor at the very best. Imagine their surprise when he sent his response.

He arrived via floo network to speak personally with them. They told him everything they knew about me, the cause of my infliction, my many friendships, my high intelligence, my good breeding. Everything they thought that would help my case. He chuckled at my poor rambling mother. No, no, no, he said. All he wanted to know was my temperament. Papa went on to say how mild mannered I was. Very clean. Quiet and obedient.

Dumbledore saw that speaking to my parents was useless so he asked to see me in private to determine my true nature. He asked me how I would feel about going to school with children my own age. I asked if there would be pups there as well as children. He asked what I meant. I said that I wanted to know if there would be any other wolves there. Anyone like me. He replied that no, I would be schooling alongside human children. I would be the first and only pup allowed inside a magical education institution.

Back then, I was still a small pup. Humanity had done very little to me if you discounted my parents. I had been hurt many times for simply daring to exist by humans and I had been to Wolf's Haven many times since I was bitten. My pack mother, Marie, had taught me to never trust humans. And as I trusted her, loved her for protecting me and making me her pack pup, I believed her. She always told me to trust my instincts, my wolf instincts, for they would not lie to me. They told me to be wary of any human that showed more than passing interest in me.

I told the Headmaster as much. I told him right off that he and I were different. That I could not trust him even though my parents did. I did not want to be hurt again. He took my words in stride. He told me that I was half human, how could I fear other humans? I replied that no, I was not human. I was a wolf. All wolf.

Then he smiled and clasped my shoulder. I fought the urge to bite his hand for invading my personal territory. Then he told me the words I never thought I'd hear. I would be attending school the fall of my 11th year. The laws clearly stated that half breeds could not learn magic. Hadn't I just said I was full wolf? Looking back, it was a foolish and insensitive thing to say, but at the time, it was an epiphany.

He stayed for dinner that night and we worked out the details. After my mother stopped crying, my father asked about my monthly 'sickness.' How would I ever get away with it without putting the children and staff in danger? Surely the other parents wouldn't dare allow their children to school alongside a werewolf. And what about the Ministry? The law clearly stated… yet the Headmaster had an answer right away.

The staff need be the only ones to know what I was. The government, surely, must be notified that I was attending, and frankly he didn't care what they said. He would tell them I was going, not asking. It was his school and they had no authority there. He would speak with his staff to see what could be done for my transformations, but surely he would have an answer in a few days. He did. Arrangements were made.

The government, of course, threw a fit. But they couldn't do anything with Dumbledore backing me up. I half expected him to drop me in favor of the Ministry's wishes. But he stood by me, defended me to those who would lock me up in a silver cage with a silver muzzle. No one save my parents had ever done that. And even my parents wouldn't defy the Ministry. I began to trust again. I wanted to make him glad of his decision to let me in school. I didn't want to dishonor his efforts.

A month before school started, I was able to go to Wolf's Haven for one last visit. I told Marie about it, who in turn told the rest of the pack about it. I became an instant celebrity, moving up the ranks by myself to among the Alphas. Their very own wizarding werewolf… the only one among us allowed to even hold a wand or own a cauldron.

I had a new incentive now to do well. If I were to get in trouble in any way, not only would I be dishonoring myself and Dumbledore, but also my people who were just beginning to accept me into their culture. What if I was the reason that wolves were never allowed to learn magic in the future? I vowed to keep quiet, remain mild mannered, and learn all I could.

School started all too soon. I had all my new supplies and even a new owl which was a gift from Marie and her mate. To say I was nervous around all these humans would be to understate it greatly. However my parents were beside themselves with nerves and pride. I couldn't wait for the all the excitement to be over. I wished for nothing more than to be in my dorm, hide behind a book, and remain invisible to the world.

On the train there were three boys that came to sit with me, as there were no other seats elsewhere. I tried to be friendly, but I couldn't get past my mistrust of these humans who would hate me and try to hurt me if they knew the truth. I couldn't afford to get close.

The first boy, a shaggy haired mischievous child named James Potter set out immediately to make himself new friends. He came from a good family. Nearly pureblood, he had a few Muggle relations, but his family was well known among the wizarding world. I vaguely recognized the name, but couldn't remember where. Young James was wealthy and talented. He also knew it. He both unnerved me and intrigued me with his candor and impulsive nature. Immediately taking a liking to me, he counted me among his friends before I said very much at all.

The second, with a little more Muggle blood than the first, came to our section. Nervous and shy, Peter Pettigrew was looking for a missing pet, a lizard or a toad or some other creature. Finding it in our car, he decided to stay. He was drawn in by the prankster's magnetic personality. He stayed, he told me, because of my easy acceptance of him and his weaknesses. Oh, if he only knew the truth. The prankster would tease him, but it would all be in fun. I knew the pain of taunts all too well and would not partake in it despite it being friendly banter where no one was hurt.

The third boy, I am ashamed to admit, downright terrified me at first. Sirius Black was born into a noble and pureblooded family that nearly every wizard knew. Handsome, incredibly talented, and from his kind of family… I was afraid the moment he let his surname leave his lips. He knew of his nobility to be sure, but he did not flaunt it at much as the prankster. This surprised me, but I would not let my guard down around him no matter what. His family hunted abominations like me. His kind was not my kind.

Apparently, his kind was the James' kind for they latched onto each other as though old friends within minutes. Sirius must have noticed my unease around him, for he joked that he would not bite. I did not laugh. He caught my gaze in impossible blue eyes, and held it, and was not unnerved. My own mother could not look me in the eyes for longer than a few seconds.

The three of them were determined to become friends, not even knowing if they would even be in the same House. And they made it their first mission to recruit me. They saw something in me. Something that I have yet to discover, that attracted them to me as surely as they attracted each other. And I, in my fear, would fight them every step of the way. When they became too much for me, I was rude to them. I snapped back like a cornered animal, wishing only to be left alone in a sea of humans. They saw through me and my loneliness easily.

It would take them months of patience and commendable persistence to win me over. And once they did, and were able to take my barriers down one by one, I found them to be the best people I ever knew. I had a new pack now where rank didn't matter so much. They protected me and in return, they were placed under my protection. I took this role seriously and still do. Both the human and wolf in me will not allow any harm to come by them while we are a pack.

Those three probably saved my humanity. I had been around the other wolves too long from Wolf's Haven. My parents also coddled me too much when it came to my social circles. I had become so reliant on my instincts, on what I was, that I was beginning to forget just who I was. But James, Peter, and Sirius made me want to try to be human again. They made me see past the demon that I was starting to become.

Fighting your very nature is difficult. Trying to restrain an untamed wolf that had once had free reign is nigh impossible. People use exhaustion as a way of identifying a werewolf. This is an awful method of identifying us. True werewolves, the ones who are really more animal than human are the most powerful and energetic beings on Earth. I had boundless energy when I fully accepted what I was. What tires werewolves so much that they have been known to go gray early, is their trying to restrain themselves.

The moment I shoved my wolf nature to the back, I became sick. My immune system is such that nothing short of the plague will keep me down for long. But the simple act of ignoring one's instincts made me feel like I was constantly wearing that silver collar the Ministry gave me all those years ago. I am nauseous and weak most of the time. Instead of being tired for a day before and after the full moon, I am now confined to bed for at least one day before and two to three after. The energy required to keep this up is what caused my frailness. But despite my new weaknesses, I was happy for the first time in my life. I had my pack. And we became as tight-knit as though we were brothers.

Despite my unspoken promise to keep my head down, my pack had other plans. True to their natures, James and Sirius created a new mission; terrorize the whole bloody school. Peter found the idea to be likable, and slowly, I warmed up to the idea. Thus new roles were set among the pack. James was the action, the talented wand, to the prank. Sirius was the idea. His creative imagination and his clever spells would promise a new and interesting prank every time. But he was impulsive and lacked refinement in his pranks. That's where I come in. I am the brains of the operation in a sense. I refine the prank, hone it until it is perfect and research the ideas to make them a reality. Peter was our 'inside' man. He could create diversions and scout the area like it was an art form. With him around, we know that we are secure from detection.

The only time I would put my foot down and not take part would be when our prank terrorized one person in particular. Or when our harmless fun became too personal for my tastes. As I stated before, I knew taunts all too well and would not bestow it upon another. It is a shame of mine to admit that I am not so brave as to prevent it. I will not harass the Slytherins like James and Sirius do, especially a certain favorite 'victim', and I do not laugh in the sidelines like Peter, but I also do not stop it. Old fears come back and I feel again like the Omega pup I used to be. To show weakness will demote you. What if, no matter how illogical it is, my pack turns on me for standing up for their enemy? What if I am cast out again? I don't think I could live like that. Not when I care for them as I do.

However, being with the pack I had chosen, I found myself fighting for dominance anyway. Though I was the only one to recognize it for what it was, other groups of the school, the Slytherins, cliques of the Houses, would fight for our position in the school like any wolf pack. Only a wolf such as I can appreciate how similar humans and wolves really are. I understood the rules of human society within a day merely by remembering the instinctive rules of the Wolf's Haven pack. I could no longer count on Marie to keep me from scuffles and I could not allow myself to be weak in front of the human pups who bullied me. I had to learn how to fight back against new school tormentors. They didn't know what I was, thank Merlin, but disliked me for my simple association with my pack.

It was almost a relief to me at first, being hated only because I was a good student and because of the pack I ran with. I was not bullied because I was a different species. Those Slytherins hated the human Remus who was a Marauder. Not the whelp pup of a rogue werewolf. That had nothing to do with it! I think that is what made me so difficult to upset to the Slytherins; I honestly and truly did not let it bother me.

Sirius and James certainly gave me odd looks when I looked almost pleased to be called such filthy names. They chalked it up as another strange quirk of their beloved mischief making friend. But all those names were _human_! They were human insults meant for human victims! Peter only followed my example. Soon he was as patient with his frequent bullies as I was. I was proud that I could help protect my fellow packmate without even having to try.

For two wonderful years I could pretend I was nothing but an ordinary human boy who learned alongside three best friends. Once a month I always had the rude reminder that I was not as I appeared. I always had an excuse to my friends for my frequent absences. My grandmother died. My cousin was being married in Spain. But I knew time was running short. I would run out of family members to kill soon. I was best friends with two of the most clever and bright students of the school. It was only a matter of time before they found out the truth behind their peaceful and gentle packmate.

I dreaded that day. They would turn on me. Sirius would turn out to be the hateful nobleman of his ancestors. Peter would run in fright of the horrifying monster. James would cast me out of the pack to protect his remaining friends. His _human_ friends. And on that fall afternoon of our Third Year, I knew the moment I was found out.

The full moon was in two days and I had solemnly informed James in our dorm of my dear grandfather's demise. A terrible, sudden accident involving a rogue chimera. I would be gone for a few days to see to it. The second after the lie left my lips, my eyes widened. Oh no! I had killed off two sets of grandparents already. And it was the rare child that had three to spare. True to form, James immediately picked it up. I knew he had been suspicious for a while, and this was the final straw so to speak. His hazel eyes hardened and I could see all the pieces clicking into place in his mind. That was it. I was done for.

He called down to Sirius and Peter in the Common Room. I was cornered in my dorm room as they approached me. James only gave his pack of two a curt nod. Oh no, had they been talking about me and my strange disappearances? How long had they suspected? I watched helplessly as understanding filled their eyes and they turned to look at me, truly look at me, as I had always wished they wouldn't.

Sirius being Sirius could never understand the meaning of words like 'subtle,' 'tact,' or 'sensitivity.' They saw how nervous I was rapidly becoming. I could never hide anything from them for long. So he came right out and asked me, holding my gaze in impossible blue eyes that were not afraid. But I was. I was terrified.

"You're a werewolf, aren't you, Remus?"

End Part One

Alright then, I have two more parts planned before we receive the Ministry's response to his plea. And yes, he was told to do this by Dumbledore as Hagrid was asked to go to the giants to keep them from going to Voldemort.


	2. Part 2

Part Two

I did not answer. I didn't need to. I saw it in their eyes that they knew, just as they saw in mine the truth. My ears caught the faint sharp intake of breath as Peter realized the full extent of this. But nervous as he was, not even he was afraid. I could smell no fear on them. My eyes caught no hesitation in their movements. That left only one other emotion for them. They were angry. Angry that they had associated with a mutt like me.

I turned from them and opened my trunk. I apologized hurriedly, saying that if they told no one I would leave quietly. I ran to collect my things, throwing them toward my trunk, not checking to see if they made it in.

My frantic movements were stopped by Sirius who caught my wrist in a strong grip. I kept my gaze to the ground, submissive to the beta member of the pack. But I could not stop the pathetic whimper that escaped my lips. I was acting like such a weak pup then, but I could not stop it. Memories upon memories of burning homes, hateful children, kicking adults… it all came back to me in that small touch. And it disgusted me.

But then I felt a small, timid hand on my shoulder. Peter, my nose told me. But why? He, who was so nervous around the school bullies, willingly touching a creature who could rip him limb from limb without the help of a full moon? But then, why should he be afraid when he has his two powerful packmates to protect him?

I heard the confident footsteps of James drawing near and I braced myself for whatever he had planned. He knew hexes like nobody's business and I had seen him attack a Slytherin for no reason more than glaring at him. What would he do to this dark creature that befouled his pack?

He did nothing to me. Nothing save sit on the bed next to me and lift my chin so I wasn't staring at the ground. There was no anger in his eyes, nor in Peter's. But Sirius' still held a trace of it. His uncle had just been in the news recently for turning in a family of wolves who were caught outdoors during a full moon. He was calling for their execution. At the time Sirius had ranted and raved at the unfairness of it. But what would he say now that he had a wolf of his own at his mercy?

"Why didn't you tell us, mate?" He asked with indignation. "We're your friends!"

That was why he was angry? Before I could reply, Peter's small voice piped in. "We were really worried about you, Rem. We thought you were in some kind of trouble or something. Or you were sick and weren't getting better."

"You're afraid of us," continued James sadly. "We're best friends and you are afraid of us, like we'd hurt you or something. And we are friends, right mate?"

"Are we?" I asked softly, amazed at their reactions thus far, but still braced for anything.

"How could you even question that?" asked Sirius, no longer angry. He removed his hand from my wrist, noting how it only frightened me more. "Don't be daft, Remus. How could you think so little of us that we'd hate you just cause you get a little shaggy sometimes? My mum is a hell of a lot worse than that during her time of the month. You're hardly something to make a fuss about."

For a moment I could not respond. My mouth formed the words, but my brain forgot how to make them come out. They… didn't hate me? They weren't afraid? But how could that be? How could they so casually accept something like me? Finally I had to ask them.

"How long have you known?" James' eyes twinkled behind his glasses.

"Long enough to find a solution. It was Peter, actually, that tipped us off."

Of all the people that would figure me out, the last person I would think of was Peter. But, perhaps I should have seen it coming. The boy may be tragic in most of his classes, but in Care of Magical Creatures, he was a fountain of knowledge. A guru of all things that walked on four legs… or sometimes six. It was he who first brought it to the others' attention that I just happened to show the same symptoms as a wolf. James and Sirius just picked it up from there.

Their solution, it turned out, was risky and dangerous. In the end, they would not even accomplish this until early 5th Year. But Sirius had rationalized it as a whole extra 1,555,200 seconds that we had to bring laughter and joy into the hearts of our fellow students before graduation. James had translated our packmate's rambling to mean that Sirius wanted the chance to run with a werewolf and create much mischief in the process. I, being the voice of reason of the pack, warned them of such an attempt for a solution. Unable to dissuade them, my only demand was that they remember that I was not a fuzzy pet to be laughed at. I was a wolf and should be approached as the danger I was.

Third Year passed as one of the greatest of my life. I no longer had to hide anything from my pack who accepted me in all my neurotic, and 'shaggy,' quirkiness. For the first time, I was able to have fun with the powers my wolf self gave me. Sirius, being the 'growing boy' that he was, used my sensitive nose to determine what would be for dinner every evening. I have yet to be wrong. James tried to implement my gifts into our new pranks, making them nearly failsafe. There are few who can hear or see so well as a wolf.

Peter had a new 'lab rat' with which to get extra credit points in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures. I believe for his 7th Year thesis, Peter wrote his essay about me. Sirius claims it to be perfectly scientific, but as he was grinning at the time, it makes me concerned.

As 3rd Year was filled with laughter, 4th Year passed into sorrow and tears. It started in the summer before I began the new term. Wolf's Haven had their meetings like always, and I was able to attend. Marie and her mate were happy for me when they heard of my latest year at Hogwarts, and the close-knit pack that we had formed. The rest of the large pack at the Haven received me with open arms as their only wizarding werewolf. One wolf in particular.

His name was Derrick Ferren and he was as scruffy as they come. A wolf with no outside pack of his own, he had joined Wolf's Haven hoping for a mate. But he was obviously Omega material and he soon fell down the ranks faster than I did, which was rather fast indeed. There was a shady look in his eye, one that I didn't like. Marie warned me to stay away from him, that he was bad news.

I needed no warnings from her; there was something about him that told me to stay as far away as I could. But even as I kept my distance, he managed to find way after way of getting close to me. Apparently he had been asking about me. Trying to get information on me. But he was not the only one getting information.

Marie's mate, the alpha's younger brother by the name of Etienne, did some snooping of his own. What he turned up made my whole world drop beneath me. Derrick had been an unfortunate homeless Muggle that begged his way too close to a werewolf safehouse on a full moon. Bitten, Derrick might have died from his wounds if he hadn't been rescued by a nearby witch and treated at St. Mungo's. There he had to get a crash course on the magical world and all that lay in it. This included his new role in society as more of an outcast than he already was.

Unable to cope with the overload of information, his wolf side convinced him to flee. He ended up outside on a full moon, and therefore tracked down a meal. That was almost ten years ago. His last known position had been eight kilometers from my house.

Tests later proved it. That wretched wolf was my father. My wolf one, that is. I inherited all my wolf traits from him as he inherited from the she-wolf that bit him. And now he was back. Back to find the little lost pup he remembered creating so long ago.

By the laws of wizards, he would be put to death for being so brazenly stupid and for both tasting human flesh and turning that flesh into one of its own. By the wolf laws, pups treated their Makers as though they were their parents. He had come to Wolf's Haven for sanctuary and a wolf would not turn in one of its own to the Ministry no matter how scruffy or stupid it was.

He did not want me before, when I was just a nameless kid he had bitten and then lost. I could not learn from him as many of the others had done to their Makers or parents. Instead of owning up to the little lost pup, he fled for his life from the Ministry and it was only luck that he hadn't been caught. But now, years later, he was back. He knew me the moment he saw me, he told me. He knew that I was the one he sired. And now he wanted to take care of me. Not legally of course. I was still under the guardianship of my parents and that wouldn't change. But he wanted to see me more often and 'teach me everything there was to being a wolf.'

As if I didn't know what being a wolf was nearly a decade after the fact. No, what he really wanted was the right to shout to the others that he had sired the very first wizarding werewolf. It would promote him to status near my own if I allowed it of him. He was after only my abilities and did not try to hide the fact very well.

For all the forgiveness that my pack of Marauders accused me of, I had none for this rogue mutt. He disappointed me so much. I had never given too much thought to my Maker. Marie and Etienne Laspron were all the wolf parents I needed. But I had always imagined a poor tortured soul who couldn't help what he had done to me. A wolf who would have come back to me if he could. Someone who felt terrible about hurting a little boy but couldn't find me or couldn't remember exactly. I had thought up dozens of reasons why my sire had disappeared, and none of them came close to the craven wolf I saw before me.

Etienne eventually drove him away from me when my constant refusals didn't make it through his skull. But Derrick kept his offer open as he ran with his proverbial tail between his legs. I never wanted to see him again.

School began for me on a sour note after that. I told the rest of my pack what happened. James and Sirius wanted to hex the mutt for me. Peter told me to stay away from him, that a rogue wolf after power could never mean a good thing. For a month or so, things went back to normal and they made me forget about my sire.

Then the attack came.

My parents were always fierce defenders of the Ministry. A rising new radical wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort was gaining power all across Great Britain, promoting the purebred wizard and renouncing those of mixed blood or Muggle lineage. As he grew in power, so did he in ruthlessness. More and more families were becoming affected by him in one way or another. My own family wasn't a very rich family like James' or Sirius', but we got by. Influential enough to catch the eye of the Dark Lord. He tried to recruit my father, then my mother. Learning of my existence, he tried for me the hardest. A young impressionable werewolf; how could he refuse the temptation?

The answers to his attempts were all the same. He was not happy with this.

It was just after Christmas break began and classes ended that I was called into the Headmaster's office. I had originally planned to go home for the holidays, but the full moon occurred during that time, and I felt safer in a place where I knew nothing wrong could happen. This decision saved my life.

Nothing was left of the house, nor of its possessions or of its occupants. It took days before the Dark Mark faded.

It had been years since I let the wolf rage like it did. For a good few hours I was as feral and as dangerous as my alter-ego, or so I was told. I remember very little of my time spent in Dumbledore's office. The last thing I remember being coherent for was being told that I could not attend the funerals for my own safety.

I was so frightened, more frightened than I ever remember being. An orphaned werewolf is as helpless as a newborn pup. I had just enough money to get myself through school. No one in their right mind would take in a wolf pup. Marie and her mate couldn't possibly take me in. And what if my sire found out…? He would come after me with twice the force than before.

In the end, it was Dumbledore again who saved me. He placed me in his protection. As he was a very busy man who couldn't take the time to play nursemaid to a pup, he instead paid all my expenses so I could stay with the Pettigrews until I was able to get a place of my own. But until the Dark Lord stopped hunting me, I was a virtual prisoner within the castle. No Hogsmeade visits for a year, special surveillance… My only respite from my fear and anger was, as always, inside my hoard of books.

I wasn't the only student who lost family. There were so many of us, Dumbledore didn't know what to do with us. As such, we weren't all given the individual attention we needed. So we had to find our own ways to cope with it. My coping method was to bury myself with schoolwork and books.

Sirius' coping mechanism, as it turned out, was to cause mischief. Our pack of four was very tight-knit, as I had previously mentioned. When one of us hurt, the entire pack felt it as their own. And of me most especially, my pack was very protective. Therefore, I should have foreseen something coming in response to my loss.

When our exploits failed to cheer me, my pack didn't know what to do. Peter left me alone for the most part, to heal in my own time. James tried to distract me. Sirius, ever the watchful one, knew this didn't help. He grew antsy, impatient, and angry. Small things set him off where before he would laugh it away. Perhaps it was this agitation that made him do what he did.

A fellow classmate, one that had fought with my pack for years, became suspicious of me. He followed me around, jotted down things I said or did that may give him a clue. It was a common rumor that this boy was, or soon would become, an initiated Death Eater. But rumors or not, I found his intrusion unwelcome.

The others tried to get him away from me. Picked fights to distract him from learning the truth. As I said, very protective of me. But still he persisted.

On a full moon of that Spring, the wolf was agitated all night. Wolves think differently than humans. Werewolves are no exception. I do not think in a linear series of events. I know scents, sights, touches, tastes. And on that moon, I had prey within my grasp, yet it escaped. Two in fact. One my subconscious was hesitant to attack, but prey was prey. I remember raging all night, biting and scratching myself more than usual. I wanted, needed, warm blood and flesh. If I could not take it from my prey, I would create my own source.

I hurt so badly the next morning. I hadn't hurt myself this badly since I first attended school. I knew something unusual had happened, but I didn't know what.

Entering the medical wing with Madam Pomfrey it all clicked into place. The scents of my prey hit my sensitive human nose as I looked at the scratched and bruised forms of my alpha packmate at our adversary on opposite sides of the room. The wolf that was still so close to the surface recognized its stolen prey and nearly took over my body and attacked. Fortunately for James and the Slytherin, I was human and in enough control to not rip them apart.

I don't know how long I knelt in the doorway in tears. All I knew was that I understood fully why so many wolves took their own lives rather than live with themselves. I felt like a dirty animal. A monster that should be put down rather than be allowed to live. I had attacked a human being so I did not expect to live long anyway.

Both James and Madam Pomfrey tried to calm me down, but I was too frightened and wouldn't let them within ten meters of me. One might say I felt like a panicked father upon learning his mate is with child. Having just met my sire, a fool of a stray, I was now faced with pups of my own. My whole world was crashing down before my eyes and it was all my doing.

The poor nurse must have given up on trying to calm me, because the Headmaster was eventually called down. At this point, I was nearing hysterics, lashing out at whatever came too close to me and having trouble remembering the language of man.

Dumbledore had to have spent some time among a society of werewolves or he wouldn't have known what to do. He approached me swiftly before I could attempt to escape again and smacked me lightly on the forehead. The 'Enough!' he commanded in a bark-like tone coupled with his actions were enough to impress his dominance to me. It was instinct for wolves to behave in such a matter. Therefore, it was instinct that was my life-line. What sanity remained pulled me together to respond in the proper manner, calming me almost immediately to logical thinking.

I tried to explain to him what had happened and how sorry I was. He hushed me with another smack on the forehead and guided me over to my distraught prey. Once I was close enough to take in their scents, I was assured that while I beat them quite soundly, they were no pups of mine.

This eventually led to the nest question: how exactly was it that I had the opportunity to attack them? I began and ended my night in the Shrieking Shack, so it must have been they who came to me. But why? Even James, who knew what he was facing, couldn't have been stupid enough to approach a full-grown werewolf. After I had rested for a few hours and my wounds healed, they allowed me to learn the answer.

It was Sirius, actually, who told me. The others had elected him to tell me by himself. He admitted everything to me; that it was he who told the Slytherin how to find me without telling him what kind of state I would be in. Then he told how James had learned of this and went to stop the Slytherin when Sirius would not. The rest I knew and did not care to hear again.

Impossible blue eyes could not hold my gaze for the first time. But even as he was sorry for me and James' injuries, there was still a spark of satisfaction in the Slytherin's pain and terror.

With the horror ever rising in me, it did not take much provocation for the wolf to rise to the surface again. This time I could not hold back my temper. And for the first time in my life I knowingly attacked a human in my human form. He never knew what hit him.

He looked so weak to me at that moment. I could have snapped his neck before he even realized I had moved. As such, I would not kill a pack mate. On this the wolf and human agreed. But I would show him his place. I couldn't rely on others to protect me. I had to protect myself. If he just saw me as an animal, then an animal I would be.

Sirius didn't fight back as I shoved him to the ground. I wasn't a pet I shouted to him. I wasn't a weapon! How dare he abuse my trust in him! I could have killed last night! I could have pupped! Did he not care if the Ministry put me to sleep? I was not a tame puppy and now he finally saw for the first time, even after seeing me in my wolf form many times, just what he had been playing with all along.

Damn human, I cursed him. Did he not understand in the slightest what I was? I think in that one instant, when his eyes locked with mine, that he did understand. He saw that I was no human, that this disguise I wore every day but on the full moon was only that, a disguise. Stupid human, I raged. What kind of a Black are you that you don't kill me outright? Aren't I a Dark Creature that you read about late at night to frighten you? Doesn't your family destroy beings like me? I had never attacked his family like this before, he had always done it himself, but there was no stopping me when I was in this kind of rage.

One drop of blood, I told him. One drop of sweat or spit or blood of mine was all it would take. And he would be the same animal he saw me as. Did he not realize the danger he was in and the trouble I went through to minimize that danger? Did he not realize that I could kill him now before he took his next breath?

I think I may have started crying again. I wasn't sure. All I know was that some time after I threatened to bite him, he left me alone. It took me a while to come to terms with what had happened, and I was alone for most of it. Not because the others alienated me. Quite the opposite. It was Sirius who my pack made an outcast. But I needed some time away from the human world. My pack could not help me. Any moment, I expected the Ministry to burst through the doors, demanding the dangerous beast who nearly tasted young human flesh.

Through some miracle, this did not happen. It was Dumbledore, for the third time, who saved me. The Slytherin was ordered not to tell a soul about me, and the rest of it was swept under the rug. I had a clean slate. No harm. No foul. Slowly and cautiously, I reintroduced myself to the world of humans alive and nearly whole.

For a time, I hated Sirius as I have hated no one. I hated him for using me like a weapon and an animal. For the intense trust I had had in him. For his inability to think things through to the end. For the execution I'd just escaped. And for the fear that shone in his eyes as I attacked him.

But as I hated him, I hated myself worse of all. It was not his fault that I was an animal. And I knew that if I continued to push him away, eventually he would stop trying to make it up to me. Did I want to alienate one of the only people who did not shudder at my touch? I had said horrible things, attacked my own pack mate. And I didn't even have the excuse that I was not in my right mind. It wasn't as though I could be picky about who my friends were. Not everyone would accept a wolf into their pack, let alone try over and over to be friends with it. Hadn't he suffered enough with his shame? He was sorry and I finally took his apology.

Things slowly went back to normal. The only difference being that when the summer came around, I went home with Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew.

It was strange at first. Wolves do not take change very well. We get into a pattern and like to remain in that pattern. New scents, new people, new surroundings… it put me on edge. It helped that I had met Peter's parents before, but not enough. They thought that my jittery and somewhat irritable behavior was a result from the grief of my parents' loss. In truth, the jittery behavior was because of my new surroundings, nothing else.

As horrible as it may sound, the grief did not last as long as it otherwise might. My sense of the bonds formed by a pack are strong. But as my parents had always rejected my other half, treating it like a shameful disease, they never appealed to it. They did not try to form a pack with me, didn't try to understand it. And once school started in my 11th year, I saw very little of them. I loved them, mourned their loss deeply, but I would not let it destroy me. I moved on.

6th Year passed in the flurry that the previous year didn't have the decency to do. I got into all the N.E.W.T. classes I wanted, so I was always hard at work. But both the wolf and the human saw the futile actions of this. I saw the insanity in even trying.

What could I possible use these N.E.W.T.'s for? My career advising meeting consisted of myself and Professor McGonagall trying futilely to pretend I had a future beyond school. We both knew all my hard classes and aced exams and late study hours would mean nothing to those who needed human employees. Even the management of Wolf's Haven were humans. What good was being the first wizarding werewolf if I couldn't do anything more than any other wolf once I left school?

But Dumbledore gave me his word that my studies were not for nothing. He convinced me to keep studying late hours, acing the exams, and taking advanced classes. I did not object very much as my studies kept me sane and focused when my pack could not.

Meanwhile, the war was becoming more and more desperate. More Aurors and hit-wizards were taking casualties than Death Eaters. The Ministry had been infiltrated, and the only things that kept the Death Eaters from taking total control were the hard law enforcers who would rather Kedavara a suspect than risk letting a Death Eater pass by free. Many innocents were imprisoned or killed during this, forgive the allusion, 'witch hunt.' But because of the hysteria lying just beneath the surface among the people, most incidents went by unchallenged. It also helped that if one challenged the only form of government we had left, they ran the high risk of becoming a suspect themselves.

In the Spring of my 6th Year, I received my second most devastating owl post. It was my pack father, Etienne. He was in the hospital now for minor burns only. But my pack mother did not survive her wounds. My poor gentle Marie was gone now. Murdered by Death Eaters. Her and two of her three young pups, all only three years old.

It turned out that I gave the Dark Lord the initial idea when he heard of a young wolf pup that he might corrupt. When I slipped through his fingers, he moved on to something bigger and better. Why have one unwilling pup, when he could recruit a whole wolf army?

Wolf's Haven was infiltrated. No doubt he tried the same tactics with them as with me. Promised them a future where they would be viewed as 1st class citizens who could learn magic and do everything humans could. A clever lie that appealed to wolves desperate enough to gain status that they would betray the pack. Most of these deserters were of the lower class; the Omegas and loners. Strays with no other home or means to take care of themselves. Like my sire. Those who would not join, like my Marie, were destroyed.

End Part 2

A/N: one guys, I'm writing this stuff out for you while I should be reading up on my Chinese. And I know that more than 5 of you are reading this. So please just take 2 minutes out of your day to write me a review. And that goes for my other stories too. Even if you don't like it, how am I suppose to fix my mistakes if you don't bloody tell me what's on your mind?! Ok, ranting done. J


	3. Part 3

Part Three

The papers, as usual, spun the tale of the Wolf's Haven massacre. They told how dozens of wolves joined the Dark Lord's ranks. Articles in the paper advised people to take further precautions against wolves. They described methods in these articles on how to evade, catch, reveal, and even how to kill wolves. I stopped reading those kinds of articles when one particularly graphic one made me sick. And for the longest time, I had this horrible reaction, as though I were constantly in contact with silver. It took a while to figure out that one incredibly dense 1st Year had read an article where one had to use silver-based paint on one's door to keep wolves out. The git had painted the Fat Lady's picture frame without telling anyone.

But none of these articles told of the dozens who would not join, or who joined only to protect their mates and pups. None told of the only wizard wolf in Europe who lost his family because he would not join.

Stories arose of werewolves attacking humans. Vicious creatures striking out at whatever innocent human came close enough. Werewolves have been a danger to humans since we first came into existence, so that was nothing new. What made the headlines was that these violent wolves were attacking in their human forms in broad daylight, some going so far as to even bite humans as humans themselves, making pups out of spite. So dangerous were these wolves that the majority of them were executed upon arrest. With the current paranoia and general danger we posed, the Ministry couldn't afford to take chances.

I could only imagine what was going through the minds of those poor wolves as they died. Life had been unfair to them for as long as most of them could remember and yet none of their hard work made any difference. Hate crimes against wolves were on the rise like never before and it was only my luck that I was safe in school rather than out in the real world.

But these werewolves must have been under attack from their neighbors endlessly for weeks. There is only so much abuse a wolf can take before it snaps. I nearly snapped completely with the betrayal of Sirius still so fresh in my mind. They must have been so suspicious of humans at that point that they were desperate enough to lash out at their aggressors. If the Ministry wasn't careful, they could find themselves with a revolution on their hands as well as a war against the Dark Lord.

Sirius must have thought of the same things, for he constantly went out of his way to show his trust and faith in me. He knew how these stories were affecting me. And he knew as well as I did how close I was to snapping the day I attacked him. And he knew that if the Ministry caught any hint, a mere rumor of me being out of sorts, they would have me in a silver muzzle before nightfall. Going into super-protective mode, he and the rest of my pack shielded me what little they could from our rival packs. The less confrontation I had at school the better.

More and more owls arrived every day for me, most from wolves who have heard of me or who were part of the Wolf's Haven pack. They too had heard the stories of werewolves fighting back against their attackers. However, unlike me they did not feel pity.

They felt hatred.

How could those damn humans continue to abuse us even as we were unwilling to join the Dark Lord? The wolves executed were given no trial, no opportunity to defend themselves. Not even a wand with which to stand a chance.

It was time to fight back.

At first I didn't know how to respond to these desperate wolves. They shouted words of kinship, of avenging innocents, of righting terrible wrongs. They hailed me as their alpha if I would only lead them. I, who was so young and inexperienced. It was no small thing to swear fealty to another. Had I wished it, I would have an army, a pack of my own.

It wasn't long before I came down from my brief euphoria. What was I thinking? I couldn't lead my own pack! I was still just a pup! Even if I somehow managed to raise, train, and organize this army there was no way we would get away with it. We would be captured or executed before we made it within a hundred yards of the Ministry. And this was all assuming we weren't discovered beforehand and that I had the knowledge to do such things.

Besides, I couldn't do that to Dumbledore and the Marauders. I owed these humans so much. They were my family now, as dear to me as any blood relation. I could not and would not betray them for a doomed rebellion. A rebellion that while I sympathized with it, I could not condone it. And could never take part in.

So I mailed each and every wolf back, telling them quite plainly to forget any and all notions of revolt. I advised them to keep low profiles, to do everything they could to protect themselves, but not to incite any more violence. I could not be the messiah they wanted me to be. Being able to use a wand did not grant me ultimate power.

They couldn't understand that and their reaction was less than enthusiastic.

More mail than ever pored in. Now I was a traitor to my people. A foolish pup who was happy to be the Ministry's pet on a leash. They classed me in the same ilk as those who murdered innocent yet desperate werewolves. As far as they were concerned, I had no people. This knowledge hurt me more than I can describe. Humans would never accept me, and now the wolves denied me safe haven. The protection my cowardly stray sire lived under was no longer mine to call upon.

I was glad to be going home with the Pettigrews that summer. I was safe with them as only a select few knew my summer residence. Safe from the Dark Lord. Safe from wizards who might hunt me as they hunted other wolves before me. Safe from my sire still out for his pup. Safe from my people who were out for my blood.

While I was in my safe little world, hidden away from reality, things were getting worse. Our government assured us that we were winning steadily but surely. That the war would soon be over.

Well, they were right about it being over soon.

Whatever stability the Ministry had in its ability to prosecute anyone remotely suspicious was dissolving. Fear ruled us now. But we hadn't lost yet. We still had some hope. Because hope was just about all we were sure of.

Summer consisted of Peter and I studying defense book after defense book. His parents were afraid of attack any moment and wanted to be ready. They would never turn me away, but I knew they saw me as an extra risk. They knew why my parents were killed and how other wolves offered me no aid. But there was nothing to be done about it now. If the Pettigrews were next, they were next. And we could only hope to be spared through either luck or skill.

Returning to school for our final year was as though entering an oasis surrounded by desert. It was sweet haven. Hogwarts seemed invulnerable now more than ever. The Dark Lord would not, could not attack it let alone infiltrate it. We were safe there, and I wasn't the only one who thought so. Almost no one went home for Christmas or Easter. No one wanted to leave for the unknown. For an escalating war exploding around us on all sides.

At first the hate letters by desperate wolves returned once school started. But by Halloween they gradually stopped coming altogether. Whether because the writers were dead from Death Eaters or the Ministry or they just gave up on my allegiance I'll never know. And I didn't want to know.

I was a selfish pup, I know. I had a life of leisure when compared to the other wolves, safe from harm, well fed, and unknown to humans after lupine blood. I did not struggle from day to day just to survive. I was allowed a wand, perhaps the only thing that could save my life in an attack and even that was denied to every other wolf. I was even under the protection of the most powerful human in the world.

And yet, I did nothing for those not so lucky. I would not use my good fortune to benefit the frightened wolves. I was a selfish pup. But I was a selfish pup who wanted to live.

My pack knew of the guilt haunting me. And they told me in no uncertain terms that I was doing the right thing despite how it tore at me. That I was right to want to live. To not want any part in the problems of other wolves. My only duty was to live.

My human side hated them for their apathy to the plight of werewolves. They were human, how could they ever lecture to me about a werewolf's duty? How could they ever understand the horror faced by pups their own age? Pups that had no pack, no home, no food, no wand with which to protect themselves?

But my wolf half, the one to whom I listened more often in these matters, knew their words to be truth and loved them for it. They understood perfectly, it told me. For in the end, every creature, humans included, were instinct-based. And with the war as it was, the humans were listening more and more to survival instincts long buried by society. Instincts very closely followed by wolves all the time.

A wolf's first duty was to itself. A pack did not sacrifice itself for a wolf too weak to defend itself. Packs themselves were created for the purpose of self-protection. My first duty _was_ to live. If the others were too weak to survive, it was not my fault or problem. Why begrudge my good fortune when it was keeping me alive? A werewolf gave its life for mate, for pups, for its pack if it would keep the pack alive. A werewolf died only for the protection of its people. My involvement and inevitable death would protect no one. A werewolf did _not_ die for a lost war.

There was a strange sense of comfort that came with the distancing between myself and the other wolves. A sense of freedom. I could almost hide from the harsh real world in my wolf half. As human as I tried to be since meeting the Marauders, I could not remain so now. For as humans listened to their instinct more and more with the increasing danger, so did I revert to my feral mindset. Not as much as before I attended school, but there was no doubt in my packmates' minds that they played with the wolf when they played with me.

And to my constant wonderment, not a word was said against it. They accepted and loved the wolf just as they accepted and loved the human. The wolf would not let me die for my own people. But it demanded that I die for my pack should the need arise.

To this day I don't believe Peter, James, or Sirius ever knew just how protective of them the human Remus and the nameless wolf was of them for no other reason than not flinching at my touch.

Tragedy has a funny way of affecting humans. The more it happens, the more they want to pretend it doesn't exist. My pack of humans was no different.

In between trying to make sure we all left this last year at the top of our class, the Marauders tried their hardest to leave a mark on the school that would prove to be legendary. We wanted our stories to be told when our children attended school. We wanted future mischief makers to speak our names in reverent whispers as they tried to follow our example. And we wanted to be the best now and forever.

It was our own way of achieving immortality. A reassurance in itself that no matter what happened to us in the world beyond school, when we could no longer count on our Headmaster's protection, we would live on in our mark on the school. It kept us busy and made us feel better about the harsh lives destiny had dealt us. The professors, therefore, did not bother us too much about it unless we felt particularly mischievous that day.

But all good things, as they must, come to an end. We have done all we set out to do. Our immortal fame as Master Mischief Makers all but announced with the 'Quidditch Cup Incident,' graduating in first, third, fourth, and tenth in our class… we should be happy to be leaving school so successful. But as the day swiftly approaches, all I feel is uneasy apprehension. Not the giddy nervousness I should feel instead. I know I'm not alone.

We all know what await us once we leave through these doors for the last time. Over 90 of us have been touched by it already in some way. I am not the only orphan graduating. Peter isn't the only one to have lost a parent. And six empty seats among ours are six seats too many.

It is a harsh, unforgiving world out there. And we are being thrown head first into it. Our professors offer us words of hope and joy as they bid us farewell. But I can smell the sadness in their scents if not see it in their eyes. They all, _you_ all, know exactly what kind of world nearly 40 young adults are being thrown into. Dumbledore once told me that we are all like his children, and now he can no longer protect us. Only hope that during the seven years under his tutelage we have learned to take care of ourselves.

Since last winter I have been on the search for a decent job so I have something to look forward to upon graduation. Yet it seems that Death Eaters are the least of my worries. I am having enough trouble finding a way to survive without any Dark Forces making it harder.

It seemed that I was right to be skeptical of a hopeful McGonagall. A werewolf simply cannot find work. Especially now that our loyalties are under severe doubt. Every job application I filled out asked the same damned question. And every time I was forced to give the same damned answer.

I am fully qualified to perform any number of jobs from lower level Ministry work to teaching.

And I am swiftly counting myself lucky that no one else wants to lay bricks or clean rubbish.

It is very hard now for me, no longer a little pup, to restrain my old hatred of humanity. Sometimes I want very much to show the Ministry what I showed Sirius years ago. I want to show them exactly what they fear getting loose. The deepest part of me wants the same revenge the other wolves want. I want to be the beast that children are warned about at night. Forsaking my kind saved hundreds of human lives. And I am repaid by begging to lay their bricks and pick up their trash.

If this darkness consumes me, I have little doubt that I will snap. And if I snap, I have little doubt I will die in short order. It is this thought that restrains me.

Fortunately, all is not so terrible that I have to resort to silent fury to pass my days. My pack is as strong as ever and I know that graduating will not affect us. We even have an honorary fifth member. Since at least Third Year, James has been smitten with fellow Gryffindor Lily Evans. Kind, beautiful, and clever enough to evade most of our pranks, Lily is more than a match for my alpha. And from the way things are now, it seems she may remain our alpha female.

She knows what I am and doesn't care. That in and of itself is enough to earn my favor. The wolf has placed her under its protection as well, and any pups she and James might have.

But it's too early for any of us to be thinking about pups. We still have time. Even with the world falling down around us, and full-blown war all but assured, we are a pack. Many have often questioned my choice of friends. I have been told that they will only lead me down a path of rule-breaking, and someday, real trouble.

They are delinquents, the lot of them. We often like to make bets on who will be sent to Azkaban first. Sirius is convinced that the Dementors wouldn't know what to do with us and send us back. But so long as we are a pack, I don't have to worry about things like that. Each of us comes with our own share of pain and strength, and it is these things that keep us together.

Perhaps this thesis has been more a reflection of Remus Lupin than Canus Superior. However, as I wrote this, I found that I am unable to separate the two. I am a werewolf and no matter how much I wear the sheep's clothing I know better and those who know me know better. I am Canus Superior and someday the whole world will know it. I doubt that I will turn a wand upon the Ministry, for I am not a warrior and couldn't ever imagine myself being such. But Merlin protect the soul who threatens my pack.

Not long ago, in the United States, there was a rule with the Muggle government. Those of another race were to be considered equal, but kept separate. How silly is it, that even humans must categorize and hurt each other. If wolves tried to do that, with every member of differing color, how could it ever be justified? With the white furred separate from the black and the brown and the tawny… even us lower class degenerates have better common sense. Of course, those kept separate from the rest of society were far from treated as equals.

I find that this situation, still being fought over there today, has a sharp likeness to the werewolf condition. We are not labeled as inferiors, just treated as such. And Merlin forbid a wolf and a human are anything but enemies. Separate but equal.

I have news for the Ministry. We are not separate and equal. We are not separate and inferior. The werewolf is here to stay and unless our government realizes that and gives us the rights we deserve, it will find itself with a larger problem than a few desperate strays lashing out. They treat me and my kind as they do because they are afraid. But why should they be afraid of a silly wolf pup when I am a mongrel half-breed?

I'll tell you why. It's because they realized what we knew all along. We are not separate and equal. We are separate and superior. Canus Superior. And someday we will show mankind what I showed a foolhardy prankster not 2 years ago. But the punches will not be pulled then because of love for a packmate. The Ministry has made it painfully clear that they want no pack with us. So be it. We will not be content for long if we are forced to beg for cleaning up trash. There are wolves with much less patience than I, and even less love for humanity. One can only stand servitude for so long after all.

Thus I conclude my 7th Year thesis. I hope, Professor, that you have enjoyed this paper as I have enjoyed your class this year. This werewolf pup will miss Hogwarts and everything it has to offer. As we leave for darker times, I will always look back on these past 7 years and smile, knowing that there is one place where it doesn't matter what race you are or even what species. I will remember that such a place will remain a safe haven for anyone with an open mind and an eagerness to learn. Maybe that is what the Dark Lord fears about this school rather than the power of our teachers. He deals in lies and doubts and fears, and cannot infiltrate a place that does not falter in its doctrine.

Thank you again and I hope that you continue to teach future generations with the dedication and expertise you have used to teach us.

Remus John Lupin

Gryffindor

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

Class of 1978

**End Part Three**

**A/N:** I am so sorry for totally ignoring this for months! I have no real excuse other than I had writer's block of the worst kind and set it aside before I went nuts. The last chapter, which will be quick and easy btw, will show the Ministry's response to Remus' plea and report. Does anyone have any guesses on how it will play out?


	4. Part 4

A/N: This is the last part of this story. While it is very short, I felt it needed to be on its own, and so it is. Once again, my deepest thanks to Nuwie who helped me get into the mind of a werewolf. Thank you to all my other readers, you made it worthwhile: )

Part Four

Mr. Remus J. Lupin (I.D.# 83650273):

We at the Ministry thank you for the effort and time you have given in writing us. It is through concerned citizens such as yourself that we are able to address the problems of today.

As you are catalogued in our database for Magical Non-Human Creatures, we are well aware of your time as professor at Hogwarts. We are also aware that you resigned under curious circumstances just before rumors circulated of you attacking students and faculty during a full moon. As you may recall, we have already investigated the matter with you and other witnesses, so this information need not be repeated.

Such as it is, your judgment and the judgment of your peers concerning the events surrounding the Tri-Wizard Tournament we do not consider valid enough to spread nationwide panic. As an educated person, surely you realize what sort of implications would arise if we were to give in to your request to announce the return of He Who Shall Not Be Named. It is a false rumor and we will not cause unrest within the society if we allow such rumors to abound.

While your 7th Year thesis was informative to those of us not as familiar with your species, it brings up some disturbing problems that we plan to address. This unreasonable pent up anger you appear to hold against mankind is an issue we recommend you face. Enclosed with this letter is a Mind Healer at St. Mungos highly reputed among unique beings such as yourself. However the choice is yours on whether or not to see her.

Either way, you may expect an agent from the Magical Non-Human Creature branch of our department to further investigate the matter. Especially concerning the issue of the danger repeatedly posed to innocent children during your time as a student. Until you are approached by our agent, we recommend that you refrain from using magic.

Needless to say, we have considered and rejected any notion that those of your species are treated as anything but equals. Your comparison of the Ministry and the American government during the 60's and 70's is insulting and shows your lack of understanding in the matter. We here at the Ministry have only the safety and happiness of all our citizens in mind and we do not feel the need to justify our actions from either current or past times. To allow non-humans certain allowances would be to put the rest of the society at great jeopardy. This anger which you described solidifies our judgment in the matter. We would not wish any hasty actions of angry non-humans to harm innocent civilians.

We trust in your understanding and thank you for your time. As always, we embrace new concerns and ideas.

Very Respectfully,

Andrew Callista

Head of Magical Non-Human Creature office

Arachne Stellaron

Head of Half-Human Affairs

Olivia McMurphy

Head of Department Against the Dark Arts

Gov. Thomas Lampra

On behalf of the Minister of Magic and all Departments of the Ministry

FINIS


End file.
